


Fiddle-Dee-Dee!

by Lailyn



Series: Now That's What I Call Magic! [4]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Stephen Strange, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Intersex Loki (Marvel), Lady Loki, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Protective Stephen Strange, Romance, Stephen Strange feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21988387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lailyn/pseuds/Lailyn
Summary: Loki plays dress-up, and Stephen, the ever-adoring boyfriend, plays along. One thing leads to another.
Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange
Series: Now That's What I Call Magic! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581754
Comments: 8
Kudos: 158





	Fiddle-Dee-Dee!

“Loki, dearest?”

“Hmm?”

“Please do not think that I am rushing you, but we really must be leaving in ten minutes if we want to make it to the party.”

“You, Sir, are no gentleman,” Loki said coolly.

She leaned over the dressing table, inadvertently offering Stephen an unobstructed view of her bustier-girded bosom, all black lace and silk, down to her garters, which did nothing but accentuate her long, toned legs and send Stephen’s heart rate skyrocketing. 

Swallowing hard, Stephen unconsciously tugged at the silk cravat around his neck, which suddenly felt as tight as a noose. Was it just him, or was it getting harder and harder to breathe in here?

“Loki…”

“In a minute, darling.” Loki straightened up again, satisfied that her eyelashes, in female form, still retained the languorous length she remembered having from decades ago.

“If we really have to attend Tony Stark’s annual, world-famous costume gala, we might as well rock it.” Loki closed her eyes and concentrated. When she opened them again, her straight, black hair had magically transformed into a beautifully messy coiffure of curls and ringlets that cascaded down her back in a shiny tumble.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Loki said with a Southern drawl.

“A Southern belle after my own heart.” Stephen gave a low whistle. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

Loki only hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Lorna.”

“Lorna?” Stephen echoed. “As in?”

“Doone?”

“Sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Of course it does. She’s famous,” Loki said coolly.

“Please tell me you did not get that off a generic name generator,” Stephen begged. “I can’t bear the thought of introducing you as a porn star or a stripper by mistake.”

Loki turned around slowly, gaping in utter horror. “What is the matter with you?”

“It _is_ a legitimate concern,” Stephen argued. “I may be brilliant but I don’t know everything. And I certainly do not have intimate knowledge of who’s who in the underbelly of the city.”

“It’s the eponymous character in R.D. Blackmore’s novel, surely you knew that?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “When in all my years studying for my M.D. and my doctorate do you think I had time to read historical romance novels?”

“I’ll let you answer that yourself since you’re so brilliant,” Loki said absently. “Strange?”

“Yes, precious?”

“Do I look presentable?”

“Not in your underwear, you’re not.”

Loki lost a good fraction of well-practiced composure and a flustered blush coloured her cheeks. “No, silly!”

Stephen laughed.

“Do I look – ” Loki’s voice trailed, her hands ghosting over her bodice in hesitation.

Merry laughter abruptly smothered, Stephen looked instantly alarmed. “No, you don’t.”

He shook his head vehemently. “You don’t look fat. Not at all. Nuh-uh.”

The evil glare Loki sent him may have been imbued with alien magic; Stephen could swear he felt tiny shards of ice pricking every inch of exposed skin, but thankfully the exquisitely painful sensation lasted for only a split-second before it disappeared.

“Do I look like a twelve-year-old girl to you?” Loki glowered. She shook her head in disgust before turning to study her reflection once more in the mirror.

Stephen walked up slowly to her and tentatively placed his hands on her hips. When she did not swat them away, he boldly wrapped his arms around her tiny waist.

“Then what did you mean?” Stephen murmured. “You know you look beautiful.”

“Not…” Her nose crinkled ever so slightly. “…old-fashioned?”

Stephen frowned –

Loki’s hand rose to touch her rouged cheek. “My features?”

Stephen cocked his head in bafflement, looking back and forth between the Loki in his arms and the one in the mirror. “Come again?”

Embarrassed now, Loki’s hand dropped to wrap around Stephen’s wrist. “The last time I shifted and showed myself in public, it was the 1930s and women barely had eyebrows then.”

“Everyone wanted to be Jean Harlow.” With a heavy sigh, she leaned back into Stephen, as though trying to distance herself from her reflection. “Who knows what is even en vogue these days?”

“I’m definitely the last person to ask but I think it’s safe to assume that eyebrows are in,” Stephen suggested, secretly concealing a guffaw behind a light cough.

A storm cloud gathered in her eyes. “Please, do mock me further and let us see how you shall fare.”

She made to move away but Stephen held her in a grip so tight their reflections merged in the mirror. “You…” he whispered. “ – are exquisite.”

Loki hummed a beatific note of pleasure and approval. She turned her head just enough to give him a peck on the cheek. “You are learning, Doctor.”

“You don’t have to do this, Loki,” Stephen said quietly. “You can always come as yourself.”

“I am myself,” Loki said, her tone just as subdued. “Just not many people have seen it is all.”

“It’s been five years, Loki.” Five years since they had all returned from The Snap.

Five years since Stephen and Loki first sought companionship in each other, and found love instead.

Their eyes met in the mirror, reading in each other what they could not say out loud.

“The world is not ready for me, Stephen.” She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“The world has forgiven you,” Stephen argued.

“ _Forgiven?”_ Loki scoffed lightly. “Forgotten maybe, but never forgiven, Doctor.”

To Stephen, the invasion of New York seemed like a distant memory, but to Loki, it was a cross she would always have to bear, an elephant in the room no one wanted to talk about.

“Alright, Loki.” Stephen could not bear it if the mood, and by extension the night, be ruined by one slip of the tongue, whosever tongue it was. “Alright.”

Thankfully, Loki was of the same mind. “You look very handsome, by the way.”

Grateful for the change of subject, Stephen looked down at himself. The black cutaway tailcoat jacket fit him like a glove, and the vest, like the cravat, was white silk damask, heavily brocaded and exquisitely tailored.

He felt like a million dollars. “I guess I’m not bad.”

“Not bad,” Loki murmured with a delicious thrill. “Not bad at all.”

Stephen could feel his face beginning to burn. “Loki, will you please get dressed? You were the one who wanted to avoid a red carpet entrance, now you’re going to make us very, very late!”

Loki shrugged in dismissive nonchalance. “Fashionably.”

She finally took pity on Stephen, who really was a stickler for time, what with him being the Sorcerer Supreme and Keeper of the Time Stone and all.

After rifling through her Pocket Dimension for a minute or two, she found exactly what she was looking for.

“Turn around.”

“Why?” For the hundredth time, Stephen tapped on his watch, as if it could somehow slow time down a notch.

“Just turn around,” Loki growled. “Or close your eyes, whichever.”

“Really. You’ve been parading around The Sanctum half-naked for the past two hours and now you’re bashful.”

Loki bared her teeth –

“Alright, alright!”

Loki put the dress on carefully, forgoing magic and doing it manually instead. The heavy fabric fell easily and created a dropped waist, but not too low that it made her already long torso appear disproportionate. The deep V-neckline Loki secured closer to her throat with a brooch to preserve her modesty (Stephen always said she dressed like a nun, even when in her male form. She did not see a reason why that should change, just because she had breasts now), and the original rope-like belt she traded for a simple, gold ribbon around her waist.

She scrutinised her reflection in the mirror. The emerald green of the dress matched her eyes perfectly.

But that was about the only positive thing she could see. The rest, she supposed she must leave for Stephen to decide.

“I’m ready,” she announced.

Stephen turned around –

“How do I look?” she asked uncertainly.

Stephen could only stare, could only say but one word. _“Damn.”_

Loki raised an elegant eyebrow. She opened her mouth to say something, but never got the chance to. In the blink of an eye, Stephen had closed the last few steps between them and swept her off her feet, claiming her lips in a kiss, a full, yearning, _searing_ kiss –

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket when the kiss went on for too long and her chest screamed for air. Her knees gave way from under her, Stephen caught her around the waist and held her up.

“Not yet,” Stephen murmured against her lips.

“ 'Oh, Rhett, don’t',” she said breathlessly. “ 'I shall faint…' ”

“ 'I want you to faint. This is what you were meant for. None of the fools you've ever known have kissed you like this' – ” and Stephen proceeded to kiss her again, harder and deeper this time.

“Stephen…” Loki laughed when she finally managed to get a word in, “Stephen, stop! You’ll ruin the dress!”

Stephen gave a frustrated growl and finally, reluctantly, released her from his embrace.

“Better get away from me, Odinsdottir. I am barely restraining myself from carrying you up the stairs and role-playing the hell out of these costumes.”

“You mean, taking them _off.”_

“Well, of course,” Stephen said matter-of-factly. “We can’t stray too far off script.”

He eyed Loki’s dress appreciatively. “This looks very well-made.”

Loki ran her hands down the front of her full skirt, and let out a dreamy sigh. “It does, doesn’t it.”

“Something tells me you did not just conjure this out of somebody’s costume rental shop.” Being the clinically tactile person that he was, Stephen reached down to touch. “What is this, velvet?”

His eyes widened with a sudden pang of realisation. “This isn’t – is this Scarlett O’Hara’s original dress? Are you actually wearing the actual dress from Gone With The Wind? The one she made out of her mother’s curtains?”

Loki tsk-tsked. “Really, Doctor. How is that even possible? That dress was stolen from London’s Victoria and Albert Museum sometime back in the forties.”

Stephen groaned loudly. “Loki!”

“As God is my witness,” Loki said dramatically, channelling her inner Scarlett again. “It wasn’t me.”

“How come I don’t believe you.”

“You haven’t answered me, Stephen.” She gave the dress a twirl. “What do you think?”

“I think I want to marry you,” Stephen blurted.

Loki’s pout fell away, replaced by an open-mouthed astonishment.

Stephen’s gaze never wavered.

If it had been a slip of the tongue, or a tasteless joke, he was saying nothing to correct it.

Absolutely nothing.

It was then Loki knew, that she was going to do either one of two things: faint, or run.

Disappear. Teleport.

She did neither.

Slowly, she reached for Stephen’s hand and bravely met his soft, soft gaze. “Dressed like this, why not.”

Stephen’s face brightened and he smiled a tender, bashful smile.

With a voice that shook ever so slightly, “Might as well do it tonight. Bruce is ordained and Tony always has metal detectors at his events.”

Loki frowned, not understanding.

“So no pissy ex-lover’s going to come and shoot my fiancée at the altar,” Stephen helpfully explained.

Loki’s forehead smoothened. “So you did read Lorna Doone.”

Stephen shrugged casually. “It’s on BBC’s Top 100 Books You Need To Read Before You Die. Of course I did.”

Loki laughed a soft, tinkling laughter. “Of course.”

And before their lips met for the first time as the newly betrothed, she quickly slipped it in, just because she could, “Good thing I’m bulletproof.”

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously I have no idea where this came from. 
> 
> Stephen and Loki are saying the actual lines from the 1939 movie Gone With The Wind.


End file.
